by Amber Carew
"Lucinda, I know Randalph has told you things about me, and obviously you’re starting to believe them." He stepped closer. "What has he told you?"
"He told me a lot of things."
He was getting too close for comfort, so she tugged open the drawer and snatched out two soup spoons, then thrust them into his hands.
"Like?"
The microwave beeped, so she opened the door and pulled out the two bowls, one at a time, and placed them on plates, then strode to the table.
"That first day... he told me you were trying to trick me. That you didn’t really have amnesia."
She sat down and pushed the flower arrangement from the center of the small rectangular table to the edge near the wall so she’d be able to see Nyte across the table. The new lilacs she’d brought in this morning already looked a little ragged around the edges, thanks to Merlin.
"I assure you, I’m not trying to trick you." He set the spoons on the table and sat down across from her. "If I were, I would attempt to hide my abilities. I would pretend I couldn’t do anything and progress slowly. Instead, I want to learn as fast as possible. I want to know who I am and what happened as much as you do."
He leaned toward her. "What else did he tell you?"
She stared at her soup, dipping her spoon into the broth. "He told me you were dangerous."
"Yes, I remember. And he insinuated I would hurt you." The tightness of his voice hinted at contained anger. "But I would never do that. You must know that by now."
She glanced at him, her eyebrows raised. "How could I possibly know that? I don’t know you." She pointed her spoon at him. "And if you have amnesia, you don’t know you either."
"But I do know," his no-nonsense tone startled her, "you are my woman. I would never hurt you."
"I’m not your woman," she automatically denied.
But his words sparked the memory of Rand telling her how Nyte had hurt another woman. A woman he’d supposedly loved. From what she knew of Nyte, in both his actions and the sense of rightness of character she felt from him, she believed him to be an honorable man. A man who would cherish and protect a woman he cared about.
But neither of them knew what had happened before the accident that had robbed him of his memory. What if he had killed the woman named Clarissa? It could have been an accident. Or--another disturbing possibility occurred to her--what if Rand had been having an affair with her and Nyte had found out? Could he have struck out at her in a fit of jealous rage? If he had killed her, the shock of facing what he’d done could have triggered his amnesia. It would allow him to avoid the unbearable pain.
From her attempt to heal him last night, she knew he had suffered something deeply traumatic.
Maybe Rand had been telling the truth.
Nyte’s dark eyes turned solemn. "Lucinda, why are you looking at me like that?"
She shook her head and dipped her spoon into the soup again. "I-I was wondering what it must be like to have no idea who you are or what happened to you. Have you had any memories return?"
He sighed. "No, not as such. There are things I know because they feel right."
"Like?"
"Like my name is Nyte. It fits like a well-worn glove." He reached out and took her hand. "Like the fact you and I are meant to be together, even though you don’t believe that. Yet."
She drew her hand from his warmth. "What about you and Rand?"
"I know he and I knew each other. You know from his own words that he doesn’t trust me. And I reciprocate that feeling. As soon as I saw him in your living room that first day, I felt a deep anger inside and...."
The dark intensity of his eyes disturbed her. "And what?"
"And betrayal."
She felt a knot form deep in her stomach. What had happened between Rand and Nyte to force them so at odds? Had Rand had an affair with the woman named Clarissa? The woman Rand said Nyte had loved.
"Lucinda, you claim you need no help from anyone, yet clearly you rely on Rand a great deal."
"Yes, well...." She averted her gaze, not wanting him to see the vulnerability so near the surface. "He was my mentor. He was there when I first discovered I was a wizard. You wouldn’t understand what that means, but it’s a very difficult time."
She stood up and carried her half-empty soup bowl to the counter. "I was so alone, even though I was surrounded by my family. I didn’t understand what was happening, why I was so different." She placed the bowl in the sink. "To tell the truth, I was always different, never quite fitting in. When I went through the Change, though, there was so much to accept, so much to understand, and on top of all the normal worries of a teenager... I needed someone special to help me through it. Rand was that person and I couldn’t help but rely on him completely."
Nyte stood up. A jittery feeling started in her chest as he approached, but he stopped about an arm’s length away. His solemn gaze drew hers, and held it.
"I wish it had been me."
A strong sensation quivered through her. As if what he said felt right. A vision formed in her mind of Nyte’s comforting arms embracing her when the churning emotions of youth and confusion had been too much. Of his words guiding her through her first spell book. Of his companionship when she’d been lonely for the company of others of her own kind.
Of him by her side, holding her hand through the funerals of each of her family as they left her behind. Pain simmered through her. And the long bouts of grief afterward.
An intense wish that he had been the one, too.
She desperately wanted to reach out to him. To go into his arms and surrender to the raging attraction between them.
If only things were different. If only her life had progressed along normal lines, not the erratic mess it always seemed to be.
She realized Nyte’s eyes had been steadily growing darker and he’d been easing closer to her. She licked her lips, part of her hoping he would kiss her.
As though reading the desire in her eyes, he leaned forward and captured her mouth with his own. Her lips softened under his. Aching to touch more of him, she slid her hands along the side of his whisker-roughened face, then stroked through his hair, tangling her fingers in the silky length. His arms circled around her and drew her against his firm body. She became intensely aware of her breasts. Full, round, hard-tipped. She pushed her body closer, the slight movement causing her rigid nipples to brush against the heavy texture of his sweater, causing them to swell in ever increasing arousal to an almost painful pleasure.
The tip of his tongue slipped between her lips and her own tongue dashed forward to curl around his in open invitation. He teased with light strokes along her length until her breath caught at the intense heat swirling through her torso, sending her head into a spin.
As the shimmering heat threatened to consume her, she silently cursed her aggravating hormones and dragged herself from the hazy trap of desire. She stared up at him, breathing heavily.
He lowered his mouth to hers again.
"Nyte, no."
He paused, staring at her with unnerving intensity. He lowered his hand to the small of her back and drew her tight against his pelvis. The large bulge in his pants made clear to her how aroused he’d become.
"Lucinda, you can’t really want to stop."
She hesitated and he continued to lower his head. When she felt his full, firm lips settle on hers again, she couldn’t pull away. He grasped her waist and lifted her, settling her bottom on the edge of the counter. He leaned into her, his huge bulge pushing into the cradle of her thighs. The blazing heat of him seared her with need and she wrapped her legs around his waist, pulling his erection hard against her. Slick dampness readied her for him. Her heated skin felt a wash of cool air as Nyte slid her sweater upward. His lips separated from hers as he pulled the garment over her head and dropped it to the floor, then he nuzzled her neck. His lips danced across her collarbone, then downward. His hand covered one breast, his thumb circling over her rock-hard nub, desire drilling to
the core of her. She wriggled forward and wrapped her legs tighter around him, wanting to feel his naked skin against hers, wanting to feel the huge, rigid length of his erection slide inside her. Ecstasy called to her.
She slid her hands under his sweater and stroked over the rigid hardness of his stomach, then over his ribs, to his small, hard nipples. His finger slid under the edge of her bra, touching her nipple, skin to skin, and she moaned at the raging desire the contact aroused within her.
He disposed of her bra and drew her hard nipple into the warmth of his mouth. His tongue flicked across the hard nub.
"Oh, God, Nyte." Her body went weak with need and her head fell back. He slid one arm to her upper back to support her.
His other hand released the button of her jeans and slid the zipper downward. Some kind of sanity scratched through her.
"No." Her hand stilled his fingers, drawing them away from her jeans.
"But, Lucinda--"
"Nyte, I can’t do this."
He wrapped his hands around her hips and drew her tight against him. His penis pushed against her, triggering another wave of incredible desire.
"Yes, you can."
"No, I can’t make love with you."
He stared into her eyes with intense scrutiny, then pursed his lips and nodded.
"You aren’t ready."
"That’s right, I’m not ready," she echoed, grabbing onto the lifeline he’d thrown her, knowing she’d need every scrap of help he offered to withdraw from the web of desire holding her in its grasp.
"You aren’t ready to make love with me yet, but that doesn’t mean we can’t do this."
"This what--?"
His tongue lapped over one nipple, then the other. He drew it into his mouth and sucked.
"Oh, Nyte," she moaned.
He ripped off his sweater and pulled her against him. The feel of her breasts crushed against his naked chest sent explosive bursts of pleasure through her. His hands cupped her bottom and he pulled her tightly against his pulsing erection. He thrust against her, triggering a startling bolt of pleasure through her, then he eased back and thrust forward again. Only the fabric of their clothing stopped him from driving into her body.
Oh, God, she wanted to feel him inside her. He thrust again and again and she felt a wave of pleasure wash over her, then more and more waves as his sweet, erotic propulsion drove her closer to ecstasy. A second later, she felt his finger slide between them, then slip under her panties. He zeroed in on the little bundle of nerves at the front. As he stroked it, she felt herself quiver inside, from top to bottom, then an intense swirl of energy pulsed through her and she sucked in a breath, then moaned from deep inside. The sound carried her to a rippling, blissful release.
Nyte’s groan followed hers and his body stiffened against her. Slowly, his body relaxed as her climax eased to an end. She collapsed against him, reveling in the feel of his arms around her.
He held her close, stroking her back. Slowly, realization dawned on her as to what they’d just done. She eased away, overlapping her arms in front of her to cover her naked breasts, her face flaming with heat. Nyte grabbed his sweater, which had landed on the countertop beside her, and tugged it over her head. She pulled it down to cover herself. The course wool rubbed roughly against her nipples but she ignored the discomfort as she shoved the overlong sleeves up her arms.
"Lucinda, I--"
She held up her hand to stop his words.
"If you’re going to apologize, don’t. I got just as carried away as you did. It’s not fair to expect you to be the strong one."
This attraction between them was real. How could she expect him to resist it if she didn’t? How could she expect him to respect her strength if she didn’t show any?
"Lucinda, I lose myself when I get too close to you... especially when you get vulnerable the way you did a few moments ago."
Irritation zinged through her and she hopped down from the counter. The sweater hung almost to her knees.
"I’m not vulnerable."
She grabbed the kettle from the stove to put a little distance between them. She put it in the sink and started filling it with water.
"I get an overwhelming urge to protect you."
Lucinda glared at him. "I don’t need protection."
He turned off the water and drew her towards him, then stroked her cheek with one finger.
"Lucinda, consider this. You are very strong, but...." He tipped her chin up and met her defiant gaze. "Sometimes, you need someone else to be stronger."
Her eyebrows dipped down. She was still stronger than he was. In fact, putting modesty aside, some of the wizards would say she was the strongest of them all. Besides Rand, of course.
"Don’t think too hard about it," Nyte said. "Suddenly, it’ll become clear to you." He kissed the tip of her nose. "For now, we’ll take our time."
Chapter 7
Two evenings later, as Lucinda pulled a spell book from the top of one of her bookshelves, the doorbell sounded. It was Rand’s ring, she thought as she handed the book to Nyte. He always enhanced the electronic sound of her doorbell with his own particular musical flourish.
"Take a look at the spells on pages eight through twenty," she said, as she pulled open the door to the den.
The bell sounded again and she hurried to the front door. She hoped Rand wasn’t here to make further attempts to dissuade her from training Nyte. And, as much as she cared for Rand, she hoped he wouldn’t stay long. If he did, there was bound to be a blow up between him and Nyte, and she just didn’t have the energy to cope with that. Training Nyte, along with fighting the overwhelming attraction between them, had taken a lot out of her.
She tugged open the door, but instead of Rand, a tall, blond, very good-looking stranger stood on the other side. A stranger who, from the feel of him, could work magic. Her fingers clasped tightly around the doorknob.
Good heavens, not another unidentified wizard.
"May I help you?" she asked.
"Yes, you can let me in."
That voice. Her gaze ricocheted to his startling, cobalt blue eyes. His gaze held hers with a disturbing intensity.
"Rand, is that you?"
This was not her Rand, the one she’d seen only a day ago, the one she’d known since her childhood. He stood tall and straight, with shoulder-length hair the color of wheat glistening under the warmth of a summer sun. His eyes, a more vivid color than she’d ever seen, held the vitality of youth. As did his well-muscled, virile-looking body. He appeared to be about thirty-five.
His presence felt different, too. About him she felt a sense of purpose, a determination beyond anything she’d felt in him before.
She had no idea what to make of that.
"Are you going to let me in?" he asked.
As much as she’d like to suggest he come back another time--like after Nyte had finished training with her--judging from the set of his jaw, saying no was out of the question.
"Of course." She stepped aside to allow him passage.
As he strolled across the room, she couldn’t help watching his strong, purposeful steps, and thinking it would take some time to get used to the idea that Rand was really quite a hunk.
She didn’t want to think of him that way. The older Rand fit better into her view of life and she wished he could stay the way she remembered him, but at the same time, realized how selfish that attitude was.
"Can I get you anything?"
He settled into his usual seat--the recliner beside the fireplace.
"A glass of wine, please."
She glanced at the door to the den as she passed, hoping the spell book had captured Nyte’s attention enough that he wouldn’t come out for a while. She didn’t want the two men to start anything.
In the kitchen, she poured some red wine from the bottle she kept aside for Rand and a glass of diet Coke for herself. When she returned to the living room, she handed him his glass, then sat down on the couch. Merlin uncoiled from his
napping position on the hearth and arched his back in a long stretch. He sauntered toward her, then leaped onto the couch and stretched out on the cushion beside her. She stroked his head and he laid his chin on her leg and purred contentedly.
Rand placed his glass on the end table beside his chair and folded his hands in his lap.
"Do you mind if I choose where we go this evening?"
"Go?"
He raised his eyebrows. "It’s the third Thursday of the month."
"It is?"
Rats. Even though Rand had reminded her only a few days ago, with all the confusion associated with Nyte’s appearance, she had totally forgotten. She and Rand always reserved one day a month to spend together.
"I’m sorry, Rand, I think we’d better postpone for a few weeks."
His eyebrows arched. "Why?"
She gestured toward the den door. "I have a responsibility to Nyte. You know he’s suffering from amnesia, and he’s still getting his bearings. I can’t just go traipsing off and leave him--"
He leaned toward her. "It will only be a few hours. Surely he can take care of himself for that long."
"Of course I can take care of myself," Nyte’s voice cut in, "but if Lucinda doesn’t want to go out with you, you shouldn’t coerce her."
Oh, damn. She glanced around to see Nyte stride into the room. He raised an eyebrow as he took in Rand’s altered form, and sent Lucinda a significant look. She was certain it was meant to remind her of his suggestion that Rand would attempt to take his relationship with Lucinda beyond friendship. He obviously thought that was why Rand had taken on this young, attractive shape. Her hands clenched tightly on the armrest. Could he be right?
